


Can you tell me about Bletchley?

by funnyhowthatis



Category: The Bletchley Circle
Genre: F/F, WWII, flashbacks to bletchley era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnyhowthatis/pseuds/funnyhowthatis
Summary: Millie is asked to recount her time at Bletchley.





	1. So... Can you tell me about Bletchley?

**_January, 1975._**

“Dear, if I’d known you were home for the holidays, I would have prepared something for you -- you should have called!”

“Oh, I didn’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s not a trouble at all. Such a silly girl.”

Margot enjoyed watching Millie bustle around her apartment, liked seeing it in its slightly haphazard state, liked catching Millie when she wasn't expecting guests. It was this way that she could see the Millie she had known while growing up -- loud, unapologetically herself. Now it wasn’t as unusual for a woman to wear trousers or to live alone. Her apartment was a reminder of when it was so.

Millie had never given so much as half a second to think about having children, but of course life travels in strange and unexpected directions. Margot, now finishing up at university, was a neighborhood girl who had always pestered her, ever since she moved to an apartment two floors down when she was twelve. _Millie, teach me how to put on make up, teach me how to make the boys like me, Millie, fit my trousers like yours._

And later, quieter, _Millie, what if a girl fancies me._

_Millie, have you ever felt this way._

It was no wonder Millie kept her around. As if they had spotted each other from far away and known instantly -- you don’t fit in and never will. And so, without ever confirming or denying Margot’s suspicions, Millie had taught her to be just as bold, just as loud, just as unapologetic.

As Millie poured the tea --

“Millie, can you tell me about Bletchley?”

Millie’s heart skipped. After years and years of secrecy -- why, it had been at least five year since she had so much as heard the name out loud. At this point it near felt like a dream, and certainly not one to be talked about.

“Now where did you go and get a name like that?”

“Haven’t you heard?”

Heard. Heard? Heard what? If something had happened surely she would have heard.

“You didn’t hear? Winterbotham’s book?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“He talks all about Bletchley. I brought it with me, see.” She held out the book. Millie took it, too hastily to feign ignorance, and flipped through it, reading beginnings of paragraphs here, short phrases there.

“And -- and why would you think I know anything about this, this place?”

Margot stared pointedly. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

Millie looked up finally, staring back, challenging her. “Oh, you’re not, are you?”

“Go on. Tell me.”

“I don’t know anything. Wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

“Well, I’ve read the entire thing. He says it’s been a great big secret until now.”

“Surely… Leave this book with me. Come back tomorrow.”

“And the tea?

"We’ll pick up right where we left off.”

Margot didn’t hide her hurt well. She had been so looking forward to this. But she left, and once gone, Millie was left standing in disbelief, holding this book that felt like betrayal. She immediately went to the small booklet she kept by the phone, flipping through to find the numbers she hadn't used in a while.

“Jean, have you heard of the book?”

“Millie, is that you?”

“Yes, of course it’s me.”

“Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I know, I know.”

“What is it, then? Not another murder? Not another code to crack?”

“No, the opposite I’m afraid. Have you heard of someone called Winterbotham?”

“Oh, I see.”

“So you knew of this?”

“I’m a librarian, Millie.”

“Right, right. What does it mean? It’s all of our secrets, isn’t it?”

“Not all.”

“Of course some man’s gone and run his mouth, spoiled the whole thing.”

“It’s been thirty years, maybe it’s time…”

“It just doesn’t seem right.”

“I know, Millie. I know.”

She hadn’t expected to feel this way. After all, how many times had she wished she could have said something, anything, about what she did during the war? But here it was, her best kept secret, revealed to the world.

She spent the night reading the book, rereading the book. She marked pages containing facts she recognized to be incorrect. She reread yet again sections that detailed work she hadn’t been privy to.

 

_The next day._

“How did you know?”

“Clerical work? _You?_ If it had really been just clerical work, I think you would have gone off and enlisted, joined one of those women's branches. And you speak German, Russian, and -- I mean, really, you fit the bill perfectly. After reading that book I didn’t have any doubts.”

“Clever. They should have had you.”

“Then it makes sense they had the person who taught me.”

Millie sighed. “I haven’t ever discussed this with someone outside Bletchley, you know.”

“Is that a confirmation then?”

Millie shot her a look. Margot grinned widely. So that was a yes.

“So… Can you tell me about Bletchley?”

“Why do you want to know?” She couldn’t shake the suspicion. This was only Margot, and still.

“I just want to know what you really did during the war. I want to know _you_.”

“What I say doesn’t leave this room .”

“Old habits die hard?”

“Careless talk costs lives.” Millie said this more seriously than Margot would have expected, but even so, there it was, the hint of a playful smile, mischief in her eyes.

Margot nodded. “Understood. Careless talk costs lives.”


	2. Come on, dance with me.

**_1975._ **

“I was like you. At university, doing quite well,” she continued, putting a cigarette to her lips. “I studied hard during the week, not so much during the weekend,” a wink, “and by the time the war rolled around I was fluent in French, German, and Russian. The war came, and I tried to do my bit while continuing my studies. Clerical work -- genuine clerical work -- for a while. Then I got a summons. I had a brief interview, and then before I knew it I was on a train to a small town called Bletchley. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I arrived, signed the Official Secrets Act, which, by the way, is what I am breaking at the moment, and then it was right to work. Had to figure out a lot on my own. I was in Hut 6 -- German land and air codes. I didn’t know too much about what was happening in other huts. You had your work, and you didn’t ask others what they were doing, that’s how it was. None of us knew everything, we handled bits of code at a time. It was better that way. There was real danger in talking too much, or knowing too much. So, there you have it. My time at Bletchley.”

Margot, who had been listening with rapt attention, suddenly laughed. “That’s it? Oh, Millie, I once heard you give a forty five minute retelling of a man asking you out for dinner, only for you to end it with a swift rejection. I could have gotten all that from the book. Tell me about _you_ . _Your_ time. Your friends. Your big breakthroughs. What was it actually like?”

Margot had asked Millie many questions over the years. Many uncomfortable questions. Questions about puberty, and sex, and what to do when her parents fought, and what to do if she was bullied, and god knows what else. Millie had always propped a cigarette in her mouth and answered calmly, confidently. As uncomfortable as Margot might have been, Millie never was, and this put her at ease. This time, Margot could see her tense in her chair, cling to her cigarette too tightly, reach for her tea too often, only to be disappointed that it wasn’t something harder.

Finally Millie met her eyes. She looked lost, somehow. It was so terribly long ago. “Where do I begin?”

Softer this time, “Just... Give me one of your favorite moments.”

Eyes back down to her tea, her face relaxed, and a smile began to pull at her lips. Maybe it would be good to talk about this after all.

“It wasn’t always work, work, work, you know. Oh, the work was grueling, tense, it kept us up at all hours with our constantly changing shifts. And tensions ran high -- it was war time, not some game. We knew the importance of our work, if not the full scope. But there was also time for...to let loose, shall we say.”

“I’m sure you loved that.”

Millie looked up and smiled, then her gaze grew distant. “Sometimes I wonder if those were my happiest years, in a strange way. My billet didn’t have heating, food was terribly rationed, I never got much sleep, and yet,  in the middle of all of that, I had friends and... I had people close to me. All so intensely brilliant and committed to this work. And we had social clubs. The Bletchley theater society was renowned, they even performed in town. I liked to help out with the costuming, but my billet was just far away enough that I couldn’t always make their rehearsals.” Now she was laughing. “Oh, how inventive we had to be. It wasn’t just food that was rationed. No new clothes either -- make do and mend, that’s what they used to say. And that’s what we did! How we managed to conjure up costumes the likes of which we did, it’s beyond me. And there was no talk of work -- there couldn’t be. We were all from different huts, working on different projects. So it was just gossip and planning for how we would find materials, what we could find laying around. And there were other clubs. A dance social... One time Susan and I...”

“Susan... You’ve mentioned her before, haven’t you? She was one of the women you solved those murders with, wasn't she? I didn’t know she was from Bletchley.”

 

**_April, 1943._ **

Their eyes met across the room, and Millie had to put her head down quickly to not giggle. It was nearing afternoon tea, and around this time it was hard for her to stay focused. She knew that Susan, once in the work, could stay focused for hours upon hours even in the face of distraction. But she had also learned that it amused Susan to no end that her mind had these afternoon wanderings. She looked up just enough to see Susan watching her, shaking her head with a faint smile, before returning to her work. It was incredible, honestly, to watch her work. This reminded her to return to her own.

_Hut 2. Afternoon tea._

Millie came up behind Susan and nudged her. Startled, Susan spun around. “Oh!”

“Your mind still in the cipher?”

“Always.”

“Of course.”

“I have some ideas.”

“Susan! Here?”

“Right. Where has my mind gone?”

“You need a break.”

“We have breaks.”

“A better break. There’s a dance tonight.”

“And?”

“Come with me.”

“To the dance?”

“Yes. We get off at the same time, your next shift isn’t until later tomorrow -- don’t forget I know your shifts by heart.”

“That was a terrible idea, telling you.”

“Indeed, it was.”

But they were both joking, They were standing a little too close, holding each other’s eyes a little too long, leaving their tea untouched, barely noticing the hustle and bustle around them. Susan couldn’t help but laugh. Others sometimes remarked how easily Millie could get Susan to laugh. Millie always shrugged this off -- well, everyone else must simply be boring, she would say snidely -- but this was a fact she treasured.

“I can’t go like this. I’ll have to change.”

“Nonsense. We don’t have time. We’ll go just like this, same as everyone else.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

They strolled back to Hut 6 together, arm to arm, musing about abstract mathematical concepts. Or rather, Susan proposed wild ideas and Millie poked holes in them. This was how their conversations went, challenging each other, forcing the other to think better, think clearer.

At the end of their shift, the two of them, accompanied by their friend Lucy, headed straight to the dance. Stopping by the washroom, Lucy pulled Millie over to a mirror.

“Help. Please. I don’t know how to do this, and there’s...”

“Oh, I know, you’ve only mentioned him seven times in the past hour. Andrew from Hut 8?”

Lucy sighed. “Andrew from Hut 8.”

“Well then, let’s make sure you’re all done up. We’ll make sure you outshine any competition.”

Finally at the dance, Millie had to be the one to stroll up to Andrew, who, from across the room, initially seemed intimidated, then relieved. Millie turned and waved Lucy over. Before she left she whispered in her ear, “Be careful, and for goodness sake, next time I’ll make your ask your own boys to dance.” Lucy just smiled wider in Andrew’s direction and pushed Millie away.

“What a young bright one, she is, that Lucy.”

“I hope it works out with this one. She deserves this happiness, what with her brother...” There were some sentences you didn’t need to finish during the war.

“So. At these events, you usually stand by the sidelines?”

Millie laughed. The loud, hearty laugh that was not ‘fitting for a lady.’

“What?”

“Heavens, no. I dance with all of the men.”

“And tonight?”

“Well, tonight’s special.”

Susan looked up at her, asking --

“Susan! Honestly, for the smartest person I know, you can be so thick sometimes.”

“Hmm?”

“Dance with me.”

It was Susan’s turn to laugh. “I don’t dance.”

“Come on, dance with me,” her hand was extended in offering.

Not leaving Millie’s eyes, Susan gave up her hand, and Millie led her onto the dance floor with her signature confident swagger.

They were not the only pair of women, and yet both of them knew it was one thing to be two women dancing when there was a shortage of men, and another thing entirely to be two women dancing not having even taken one look at the men assembled. They knew others would know this as well, but this was nothing that could be written down or recorded, so here were their hands tightly clasped, Millie’s arm around Susan’s waist, and Susan’s arm over Millie’s shoulder.

“I really don’t know how to dance.”

Millie leaned in closer. “Just follow me.”

Soon enough, Susan had stepped on Millie’s toes enough that what they were doing could not really be termed dancing, but rather holding each other and laughing. Millie let go of Susan’s hands only to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes.

“I think my toes have suffered enough for one night!”

“I told you!”

Still laughing, they walked off the dance floor, Millie’s arm still around her waist.

“Millie...”

She sighed. “I know,” and she dropped her arm.

Taking one last look at Lucy still dancing happily, and far more successfully than they had done, with Andrew, they decided that it was time to head out.

It was a cool spring night, with only the light from the moon to guide them back to their billet. But they had done this walk in the blackout nights many times before.

As they left the Bletchley grounds and entered the sleeping town, Millie put her arm around Susan’s waist again. This time Susan responded in kind. They were alone.

“I stole another book from the library today.”

“Oh, do tell me more.”

“Well, I’ve only just started reading it, but so far, it seems that what I thought about...”

This was how it was. Millie’s shoes were worn thin and hurt her feet, her coat was near falling apart, and she had three night shifts coming up, but here she was, the happiest she had ever been.

 

**_1975._ **

“Dancing with a friend? That’s your happiest memory?”

She bristled a bit. “Just a happy moment. You said to tell you the first that came to mind. There it is.” She put out her cigarette. Thirty years? Had it really been thirty years ago?

“And Susan...”

“Yes?”

“It’s me, Millie.”

“I know.”

“You can tell me if...”

“I know.”

“When did you meet?”

“I thought you wanted to know about Bletchley.”

“If I wanted to know the specifics of German code I would reread that book. He didn’t mention mathematical geniuses who stole books and danced badly and walked home suspiciously close to linguists.” A pause. “It sounds like she was your Bletchley.”

“Nonsense. You can’t reduce that time to one person, one --”

“Sorry, sorry, I just meant, look, no one is going to write about her. No one is going to write about you. People don’t write books about women doing a hero’s work, let alone women like... I want to hear _your_ story.”

“They’re feeding you too much free thinking in that university of yours, that’s what I think.”

“That’s not what you think.”

“I know.”

This was painful. This was painful in a way Millie hadn’t anticipated. It felt like just yesterday, and yet where was Susan now? She didn’t even have her telephone number. And what state must the park be in? She knew it had all been scrubbed clean, any trace of their work erased. Their time there, their contribution to the war, all but erased. Until now.

“We don’t have to talk about Susan. What about Lucy? What about the others?”

“You want more? This is going to take another pot of tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to  potoyoutoo  and  CasualThursday  for comments & edits! Any mistakes are my own fault.


	3. Welcome to Bletchley!

**  
_January, 1942._  
**

The first day was a whirlwind of forms, being shown around, being assigned a billet. _ This is Jean, to whom you’ll report at Hut 6. This is Lucy, she will show you to your billet. This is... _

It was hard to focus staring out across the grounds. All of the huts lined up, men and women walking busily to and fro. Even on this cold winter day there was a certain excitement in the air.

“You start tomorrow. 8 am. Sharp.”

This pulled her out of her thoughts. She stood and shook the hands of the government men sitting across the desk from her, leaving to find Lucy waiting for her.

“Welcome to Bletchley! It’s good to have some new faces. Well, you’ll see, there’s a lot of new people coming in right about now.”

“And, Lucy, is it?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly is it that we do?”

She laughed. “Careless talk --”

“-- costs lives.” They finished in unison. “Understood. Will we be working together?”

“In the same hut at least. Jean will explain the work you’ll be doing tomorrow, and we shouldn’t talk about it on the streets. But the other girl in our billet works in Hut 6 as well, so sometimes we share our thoughts from the day.”

The room was just big enough for the three beds crammed in, and quite cold. Millie shivered. 

“I know it’s not the warmest, but you’ll get used to it. Mr. and Mrs. Abbott let us join them for tea and supper, and to sit by the fire in the evenings, if we like. And besides, we spend most of our time at BP anyways. This one is my bed, that one will be yours, and this one here’s Susan’s.”

“Susan?”

“The other girl from Hut 6. A bit of an oddball, but aren’t we all?”

Millie looked Lucy up and down, a sweet, harmless-looking young girl. And yet here she was, doing top secret work for the war effort. She looked down at herself, in her typical trousers and boots. 

She chuckled. “I suppose we are.”

Millie didn’t have a chance to meet Susan until after her first full day at BP. Codebreaking! So that was what all the fuss was about. Stationed in Hut 6, she was tasked with codes from German army and air force communications. It was a whirlwind of a first day; she quickly gathered that most of what she would be expected to do, she was to pick up on her own.

She returned to her billet that night exhausted, but invigorated from the day’s work. After her shift she had eaten with a few colleagues, who offered her some pointers for getting around Bletchley. They recommended she join one of the recreational organizations. They recommended not getting used to much sleep.

It was late enough that she thought perhaps her roommates might be asleep, but she noticed a light coming from under the door. She knew Lucy had a late shift that night, so this must be Susan.

She opened the door to see a woman sitting on the bed directly across from hers. She was knitting what looked like a scarf while staring off into the distance, mumbling slightly under her breath. She didn’t notice Millie enter the room or close the door. Millie, not wanting to disturb, and finding herself strangely captivated, stood in place, watching with bemused curiosity. 

After a few minutes, and a more audible “Ah!”, the woman dropped her needles and scribbled something down in a notebook on the bedside table next to her. This seemed to break the spell. 

She jumped slightly. “Oh, you must be the new girl! I’m sorry, I get caught up in these puzzles.” 

“Wouldn’t want your mind to rot from disuse in this place, is that right?”

“Mm. You’re making fun of me.”

“No! No, not at all. My name is Millie.” She extended her hand, and Susan rose to meet it.

“Susan. Very good to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She winked. She couldn’t help it.

It looked as if Susan wanted to turn away, return to her knitting and puzzle solving, but she faltered, words caught in her mouth. Her gaze drifted from Millie’s eyes to her little shelf above Millie’s bed. Millie hadn’t brought many of her belongings, so unpacking had been quite easy.

“Dumas? In the original French? And that’s German, and Russian?” Her eyes found Millie’s again. “A linguist.”

“I suppose I’ve been found out.” There was that playful tone in her voice again. “Now tell me something about you. What kind of puzzles are you solving over there in that book of yours?”

They talked like this for hours, until it was clear both of them were having trouble keeping their eyes open. As Millie began to drift off, she replayed the sound of Susan’s quiet  _ goodnight, Millie  _ to herself. It had only been a day, but this place was beginning to feel like home.

When Lucy and Millie decided to take a walk around the grounds the next day, Lucy asked about Susan.

“You met her?”

“Yes, last night! Simply...delightful.”

“Delightful? She’s lovely, but she doesn’t usually warm up to strangers very well. I’m surprised you...”

“We stayed up most of the night talking. It’s a funny thing, when you find yourself getting along with someone else almost instantly.”

“You seem to get along well with nearly everyone here right away.” It was true, she had an outgoing spirit, but Lucy hadn’t known her long enough to see that this would backfire. 

Millie looked away, not meeting Lucy’s eyes. She couldn’t stop thinking of Susan sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall, sharing a blanket when it got to be too cold. She had been overwhelmed by Susan’s intellect, her sharp wit, but that didn’t stop Millie from gently teasing her and then nudging her to make sure she knew it was a joke. In return, when Millie decided to show off some French poetry she had committed to memory, it was Susan’s turn to not be able to contain a smile. 

She didn’t say any of this to Lucy. Instead, “I suppose I must’ve just found my place. Trust me, I’m not well-liked everywhere.”

 

**_1975._ **

“Oh, no! Is that the time? I have to go -- I’m late for dinner.”

“Oh, so soon?”

“Trust me, I want to stay. Can I... Can I come back tomorrow? Hear more?”

“Of course.”

Millie saw Margot out the door, and turned back to her empty apartment. Although alone, she rarely felt lonely in this apartment, at least not in the way that she felt in this moment. Almost without thinking, she found herself at her bookshelf, squatting, looking through the books on the bottom shelf. When she found what she had been looking for, she poured herself another cup of tea, and sat in the armchair by the window, accompanied by a thick brown book with a fragile spine. In faded print on the cover, it read _Русский-Англиский Словарь_. Russian-English Dictionary.

Whenever their shifts didn’t line up, Susan had had a habit of leaving notes for Millie tucked inside this book’s pages. Millie flipped through until she found the first one Susan had left her: a small piece of paper, two edges torn, on which she had drawn the outline of Australia. On the other side, she had drawn a very poor interpretation of what she later confirmed was supposed to be a kangaroo. Evidence of previous kangaroos could be seen if one held the paper up to the light, even thirty years later. 

Underneath it, in small, slanted handwriting, Susan had written  _ someday _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to [CasualThursday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualThursday) and [potooyoutoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potooyoutoo) for edits. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> This also seems as good a time as any to say that I'm trying to be faithful to both the show and history, but if I've made small changes or mistakes, please be gentle! I'm not a historian :)


	4. Would you?

**_1975._ **

They had become such fast friends, Millie mused as she sipped her tea. From that first night on they had been nearly inseparable. Sharing meals, accompanying one another on strolls around the grounds in their time off. Millie had made more of an effort to attend other social gatherings, but she had dragged Susan along with her whenever she could.

Millie was happy with her life. She had a good job, good friends, and lived fully. However, every once in awhile she found herself exactly like this, curled up in her chair with a cup of tea, thinking of the way it had felt to -- it was difficult for her to describe -- to share her mind completely with someone. To be so completely at ease with someone else.

To feel that she extended outside of herself, into another person.

 

**_June, 1942._ **

Millie stretched out on the grass, enjoying the feeling of the sun and the light breeze on her face. She opened her eyes slightly and turned to watch Susan next to her, lying on her stomach, reading a book on probability, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pencil. Millie was overcome with a desire to say something, anything. The warmth rising in her chest felt familiar, she had felt this before, in university, but she didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think about what that would mean. Decidedly not thinking about it, she smiled and turned onto her side so that she could face Susan.

“Susan,” Millie called out quietly.

“Mm.” Susan turned a page in her book and underlined something, and didn’t give any other acknowledgement that she had heard. Millie smiled wider.

“Susan, hi,” Millie nudged Susan’s side gently.

“Millie --” It sounded as if Susan might hush her, or return to her book, but instead she sighed, put her book down with the pencil tucked inside to hold her place, and turned to face Millie. “I should have known better than to bring my book.”

“It’s the first nice day in weeks!”

“And I was doing some very interesting reading!” But she was smiling, and Millie found herself wondering, briefly, if Susan also felt a warmth in her chest.

They were quiet for a moment and then --

“Susan, how much longer do you think this war will go on?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, and then, “I’ve been having a terrible thought, Millie.”

“I doubt it... Well, go on, tell me.”

“When I was in university, I received good marks. Very good marks.”

Millie chuckled. “You? Good marks? No!”

“Oh, Millie, let me finish. There were boys, men, in my class who got the same marks as I did, and I overheard what the professors would tell them. How successful they could be, what careers they could go off to, everything. And do you know what they told me? That it was strange I hadn’t married yet. They were worried my studies would get in the way of starting a family. But now...”

“But now we can use our brains. Same as the men. I hate this bloody war, but...”

Susan nodded. It was too much to say it out loud, but the war had given them what they had dreamed of. A chance to prove themselves, a chance to fulfill their potential.

“What do you think it will be like, when the war ends? What will you do?” 

Susan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

“Husband? Children?” It was hard for Millie to think of that, of Susan as a housewife, and she pushed that feeling down as well.

“Oh, I’m not ready for all of that. But, someday, I suppose. You?”

“Goodness, no. I want to travel. To everywhere we hear about on the radio, once it’s peaceful.”

“Tell me more.” There was an infectious excitement in Susan’s eyes.

“I want to see India, Australia -- ”

“Egypt? To see the pyramids?”

“Yes! How could I forget?”

“And what about the Americas?”

They went back and forth, naming places they’d want to travel to after the war ended, planning optimal routes, speculating what kinds of food they would be eating, which then, naturally, led to reminiscing about their favorite foods before war-time rationing.

Both of them were laughing loudly as Millie held her stomach and bemoaned how long it had been since she’d had a banana, when suddenly Millie stopped, and grew serious. It took Susan a minute to notice, and then --

“Millie, what is it?”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“If I go traveling after the war, would you come? With me?”

Susan held Millie’s eyes intently. “A grand adventure?”

“The grandest.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Susan grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I’d like nothing more.” With that she leaned over and embraced Millie quickly and then settled back down, but this time lying closer.

They both turned onto their backs, to watch the clouds moving slowly across the sky, with hardly any space between them. Susan tilted her head, so that it rested against Millie’s shoulder.

Millie closed her eyes. Felt the sun and the light breeze on her face, and Susan next to her. And smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, I was definitely thinking of "This war's given us more than I could dream of" (from Bomb Girls) when I was writing this. I think Betty and Theresa would be the greatest of friends with Millie and Susan, but that's for another day, another fic (and I feel like others have done it?)
> 
> And many thanks to [CasualThursday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualThursday) for edits, but all mistakes are mine!


	5. You shouldn't have to be alone tonight.

**_August, 1942._ **

It had been a suffocatingly hot day, but thankfully the air was beginning to cool as the sun set and Millie made her way back from her shift. She wanted nothing more than to go up to the room she, Susan, and Lucy shared, collapse on her bed, and complain about her day.

She was just about to pull her key from her pocket to open the door to the Abbotts’ residence, when the door flung open.

“Lucy!”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m late for my shift. Wait, Millie -- ”

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Just, go to Susan, okay?”

Millie’s chest tightened. “Susan? Is she alright?”

“Just go to her, I have to run, I’m so sorry.”

Millie rushed through the door.

“Care to join us?” Mr. Abbott called from the main room.

“Thank you, but I’m awfully tired from the day,” Millie said as quickly as she could, and then rushed up the stairs.

She opened the door to their room and found Susan there, pacing, one hand pressed to her forehead and the other holding a crumpled piece of paper. She looked up at the sound of the door.

“Oh, Susan...” Millie’s heart began to break.

Susan held the paper out to her.

“Malcolm...your cousin?”

Susan nodded.

Millie dropped her bag and swept Susan into a hug, held her tightly. She could feel Susan relax in this embrace, and then she felt it, everything Susan had been keeping inside, spilling over in waves. Millie held her even tighter.

Gradually Susan’s sobbing subsided, and she pulled away slightly.

“I’m so sorry you have to see me like this,” she said as she tried desperately to wipe the tears away.

Millie, still holding her waist, shushed her, and brought one hand up to her face, wiped a few tears away, gently, delicately.

“I feel so stupid.” Susan looked at her with lost eyes, desperate eyes. “I don’t want to fall apart. Terrible things are happening, we hear about them all the time, hundreds of people are dying each day, and yet here I am, falling apart, because of -- ”

“Susan, Susan stop that. That doesn’t make this any less difficult.”

Susan’s eyes began to fill once more, her body began to fill once more. “He was -- when I was growing up, he was my best friend, he was always -- ” Filling and filling and Millie pulled her in once more, was already holding her when she overflowed.

They stayed like this for -- Millie wasn’t sure how long. They stood like this until Susan was still, had emptied and refilled and overflown several times, until all that was left was a tired empty shell, resting against Millie’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Millie whispered in her ear.

Susan nodded into her neck, and whispered there, “Thank you.”

They got ready for bed silently, not looking at each other. Before sliding into her own bed, Millie looked over to Susan, who hovered uncertainly.

“Susan?”

“Hmm.”

“Susan, do you... You shouldn’t have to be alone tonight.”

Millie’s bed was small, but Susan curled into her, and they fit. Exhausted, Susan slipped into sleep quickly, leaving Millie alone with her thoughts, holding her empty shell.

A tear or two escaped her eyes. She had known Susan for just over half a year, but never had she seen her like this. Never seen her so utterly and completely lost. She held her even closer, and eventually fell asleep.

Millie stirred to the sound of the door opening, and Lucy slipping in in the early hours of the morning, holding a small torch.

In this dim lighting, Lucy took in the sight of Susan in Millie’s bed, and then saw that Millie was awake.

“I’m so glad you were here for her,” Lucy whispered.

Millie nodded.

“Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

Only a few hours later, Susan’s alarm clock went off from across the room. By the time Millie managed to pull herself out of her fitful morning sleep, Susan was already half dressed for her day’s work. Through sleepy eyes Millie watched as Susan tucked in her shirt with a few curt motions. There was a deliberateness to her every motion, a stoic rigidness in her face. Millie longed to reach out and hold her again, wanted her to know she wasn’t alone, but something in the way that Susan avoided looking in her direction made her hesitate. The sound of the door shutting ricocheted in her chest. Her shifts didn’t overlap with Susan’s that day, but she thought of her, and felt her pain, from afar.

Naturally, it took time for Susan to regain her footing. There were a few more nights of Millie holding her, which they never spoke of during the day. The lights would be out, blackout cover up, and Millie would feel a touch on her shoulder. She would then shift her position, and feel Susan fill in the empty space. Sometimes she would feel Susan crying and then stroke her hair, trying to soothe her. She would whisper _you’re going to be okay_ and _it’s true this won’t stop hurting, but you will be okay_. Susan would curl in closer, and they would fall asleep like this, then wake up in the morning, already pulling away.

This was part of the rhythm of Bletchley, an unspoken part. Millie knew the others would see the haunted look in Susan’s eyes, and know. Afterall, it was war. Everyone had strings floating through the air, attaching them to their loved ones, and all too frequently one of those strings would fray or would be cut or yanked away. It was inescapable. All there was to do was give a person time to let their frayed edges heal.

 

**_1975._ **

Millie found herself in her kitchen, still lost in thought. She poured herself a glass of red wine -- she could tell this would be a long night. She thought of all of the long nights she had spent with Susan in the weeks after the letter had come. How close they had felt in the darkness, and then, once the sun rose, the way they avoided any mention of it.

Had they been avoiding it? Surely Lucy had said something at one point -- that’s right, one time Millie had overheard Susan telling Lucy that she was starting to feel more herself, and that it was just at night the demons came. Lucy, her ever supportive self, had responded with another sentiment of gratitude that she, Millie, was such a good friend to her in those difficult dark hours. That’s when they had noticed Millie standing in the doorway, and the topic of discussion abruptly shifted.

Looking back, it was as if in that period of grief, time itself had snapped. It was as if they had known what they would come to mean to each other and, in the space between dusk and dawn, skipped ahead to that. Then, to balance the scale, their days were stiff and distant. After a few weeks, Susan stopped joining Millie in bed. Millie could still remember how she had waited and waited, and how, mentally kicking herself, she hadn’t been able to keep a few tears away. The emptiness next to her had been more painful than she expected.

But then, in the morning, Susan had smiled at her. _Thank you_. As if it were yesterday, Millie could still remember the way her heart had leapt in her chest at that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> And thanks to [CasualThursday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualThursday) and [National_Nobody](http://archiveofourown.org/users/National_Nobody) for the read throughs/edits/etc.


	6. Red out!

**_1975._ **

Millie sat back down, cradling her glass of wine. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what they might be doing at this very moment if Susan were there, instead of goodness knows where, and found her mind drifting back. Little seemingly insignificant moments swirled up, previously forgotten. A familiar warmth spread across her chest as she remembered how it had felt the first time she had felt that maybe, just maybe, the closeness she felt to Susan was not one-sided.

**_October, 1942._ **

Millie was watching Susan, saw the way her eyes were skirting across the pages in front of her, the furrow in her brow, the way her mouth opened slightly, as if she wanted to say something, as if a breakthrough were on the tip of her tongue. They were pouring over German air force communications, looking for repetitions, any clue, any insight that might suggest what that day’s enigma setting for the air force, which they referred to as the red network, might be. If they could figure out the setting, then all German air force communication of that day would be readable, as if it had never been encoded to begin with.

“Susan,” Millie whispered across the table.

“Hmm?” Susan didn’t take her eyes off the pages.

“You’ve found something, haven’t you?”

Susan didn’t respond, her eyes still moving frantically across the pages in front of her. 

Millie poked her with her pencil from across the table. “You’ve spotted something.”

“It seems.... This batch, I think this whole batch is addressed to the same officer. And these letters here, at the beginning, I think they all correspond to...”

Millie and Lucy leaned over to see what she was pointing to. Lucy recognized the pattern instantly, providing other examples of a similar pattern in her stack of pages.

Jean noticed, and came to stand behind them. With encouragement from Millie and Lucy, Susan pointed out the pattern she had found.

Jean looked over the pages. “And you’re sure?”

Susan hesitated for a moment, and looked to Millie, who nodded.

She looked back up to Jean. “I’m sure. You should call it.”

Jean smiled and shook her head. “No, dear. This one is yours to call.”

Millie couldn’t help but feel her own chest tighten, and wasn’t sure she was even breathing, as she watched Susan sit up taller, collect her breath, and then call, “Red out!”

The hut sprang into action, using the pattern Susan had spotted to prepare tests for the bombes, the giant machines that could test enigma settings faster than a human ever could. 

Returning to their table, Susan was glowing, cheeks flushed.

“Well done, Susan,” Jean said fondly.

Millie and Lucy now jumped up. Lucy embraced Susan, “Incredible!” Millie, not thinking of anything but the pride and excitement she felt, scooped Susan into a tight embrace after Lucy and pressed her lips to Susan’s cheek. “Good girl,” she whispered, her voice low and raspy, before pulling away.

Susan stood there, frozen, staring at Millie. A few others from nearby tables came to quickly congratulate Susan on the morning’s breakthrough, but Susan’s eyes didn’t leave Millie’s until Jean’s stern “Alright, girls, back to work,” snapped her attention away. It was time to focus on a different network, air force communications in North Africa, which they dubbed light blue.

Millie snuck quick glances at Susan throughout the rest of their shift. Susan didn’t look at her once, at least not as far as Millie could tell. In Millie’s quick glances, she noted the furrow in Susan’s brow, but now it didn’t seem she was focused on the work in front of her. She watched Susan stare at the desk in front of her, but, having seen her at work so many times before, Millie knew she wasn’t taking in any of the words in front of her. Her chest tightened when she saw Susan absently bring a few fingers to touch her cheek, where Millie had kissed her. 

_ What were you thinking, you fool, _ Millie thought to herself. And yet, now she couldn’t help but think that maybe the reason Susan was distracted, that perhaps the reason she had frozen... It was dangerous to think this.  _ Don’t ruin a good thing, don’t let your heart get in the way of this friendship, don’t let this be like last time. _

After their shift, they donned their threadbare coats and turned into the cool, crisp October air. Lucy made a comment about meeting some other friends for dinner that evening and scurried away. A silence settled in between Millie and Susan as they walked to the gates of BP.

They had stepped through many silences together over the months. Silences when working together, silences when reading together, the silences in the room as they both drifted to sleep, the silences after Millie asked Susan how she was feeling and Susan thought for a moment before replying, the silences between the times either of them made a joke and the inevitable laughter that followed, the silences when one of them stopped the other to say they needed a minute to think, and the list went on. Their ability to exist in silence together was one of the things Millie treasured the most, but now the silence itself seemed to betray them. It felt uncomfortable, wrapped around them, an itchy sweater they both yearned to take off.

They started at the same time --

“So, how was --”

“How does it--”

They stopped, and met each other’s eyes for the first time since that morning. Susan took in a deep breath, and smiled. Was the red on her face from the chilly wind? Must have been.

“You go first.” But why did she sound so breathless?

Millie took in a deep breath of her own and slipped her arm through Susan’s, gently pulling so that they began to walk again.

“How does it feel to be the one to make the call this morning?”

“Oh, Millie, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t matter who does it, as long as it gets done.”

“I know that, but don’t I get to be proud of my Susan?”

“Your Susan?”

Millie couldn’t look at her. What was she doing?  _ Don’t ruin this, don’t scare her away _ .

“My friend. I mean it’s not every day your friend --”

“Of course.”

There was that silence again, slinking up from behind, threatening to wrap itself around them. And again, at the same time --

“We could --”

“Are you going to --”

They had reached the BP gates, and Millie pulled away. “Actually, I have some errands I need to attend to.”

“I can come with you.”

“No, no, I can go on my own. I’ll see you back at the Abbotts’, alright?”

“Alright.” 

They stood like this for a moment, caught in each other’s eyes. Susan seemed to be searching her eyes, her face, for something -- but what? Millie turned away, not wanting Susan to find anything that her expression might betray.

“See you then.”

With that, Millie headed off in the opposite direction, heading away from their billet. She knew Susan would wonder what she was going off to, and she knew she wouldn’t have a good answer for her when she returned.

She walked down the streets quickly, her mind racing. _ It was just a kiss on the cheek! Girls kiss each other’s cheeks all the time! Why did she have to go and react like that?  _ Other thoughts started creeping up, thoughts she would have rather not thought of.

Thoughts of Charlotte, at university. How close they had been, how she had kissed Charlotte’s cheek and Charlotte hers many times and not thought anything of it. But then how she had started to feel the warm feeling in her chest, the weight pressing down on her lungs, making it hard to breath. How she had one night kissed Charlotte’s cheek, and then kissed her again, kissed her properly. How Charlotte had lingered for a moment and then pulled away in disgust, had called Millie a dirty word, hadn’t spoken to her again.

_ Don’t ruin this, you fool. Don’t let your bloody heart get in the way this time _ .

She found a bench to sit on and watched the townspeople going about their evening business. Perhaps returning to their families, perhaps joining a friend for supper. These people didn’t know what was happening in their own town, somehow couldn’t taste the secrets that swirled in the air. Certainly didn’t give Millie a second thought, if they so much as noticed her.

_ Don’t ruin this, Millie _ .

_ Don’t you dare ruin this. _

Millie didn’t return to the Abbotts’ straightaway. She stopped into the town’s pub, where a rowdy group of boys -- were they from Hut 3? No, maybe it was Hut 4 -- called her over. They bought her a beer, and then another, and gladly argued with her over cricket.

The laughter of one man irked her more than others. With a malicious grin spread across his face and a glint in his eye, the kind of look that suggested he thought everything was his for the taking, he began mocking her. “And how do you know so much about sport anyway?”

“A woman can’t know about cricket? Is that it?”

“You’re just trying to impress us, that’s all. Who do you have your eye on?” he smirked.

A fury rose up in her, and she stood up to leave. “Trust me, I would never spend so much as a second trying to impress  _ you _ ,” she spat, meeting his gaze.

The other men laughed, teasing their friend for being had by a girl. She was already out the door before she could catch his response. 

If the day had been cool and crisp, the night was cold and a reminder of the colder months to come. By the time she reached the Abbotts’, her bones felt stiff from the wind, her anger at the men from the pub still boiling inside.

She expected Lucy and Susan to be asleep, but found a lamp still on in the room. Just in meeting Susan’s eyes in the warm light, she could feel her frozen skin thawing, could feel her anger subsiding. How was it that Susan, with only one look, could have this effect on her? 

“Shh...Lucy’s asleep.”

They continued to hold each other's gaze. Millie was rendered speechless by the concern and affection in Susan's eyes, and just as a new warmth began spreading uncomfortably behind her ears, she looked away and found her voice.

“You didn’t wait up for me, did you?” she asked, just above a whisper. Why was her head still spinning?

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh, Susan...” She met her eyes once more.

“You’re not cross with me, are you?” Susan rose from her bed and approached Millie.

“No, no, not at all. Why would you think a thing like that?”

“It’s just -- today has felt --”

“I know. I had some things on my mind. But I feel much better,”  _ coming home to you _ , she wanted to continue, “I feel much better now. You’re not cross, are you?”

“Oh, Millie, no.”

“Right.”

“Right. Well...” Susan stepped closer, and looked as if she were about to say something else, but instead, slightly mischievously, she asked, “Have you been drinking?”

Millie, intoxicated from the drinks or Susan’s proximity or both, couldn’t help laughing and did a very poor job at stifling it.

Susan found herself laughing as well, bringing up her hand to try to hide it. Through her fingers, “Millie, are you tipsy?”

“As if you haven’t seen it before,” her whisper, growing dangerously louder, was light and joking, cutting through the tension between them.

Susan shook her head, smiling. “You should get some sleep, tell me more in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Millie was prepared to continue joking, but then felt Susan’s soft fingers on her cheek, felt Susan lean in, kiss her other cheek, and in her ear, “Good night, Millie,” and then, just as quickly, she was back across the room, sliding into her own bed.

Millie stood, frozen, feeling the echo of Susan’s lips on her skin, staring at Susan incredulously.  _ This isn’t how girls kiss each other on the cheek. Maybe Susan isn’t like Charlotte, maybe Susan is more like... _

She was too afraid to finish this thought. Getting ready for bed she couldn’t finish it, turning the lamp on she couldn’t finish it, starting at the ceiling in the darkness she couldn’t finish it.

The thought finished itself, just as she was starting to fall asleep.

_ Maybe Susan is more like me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! I hope I will be posting more in 2018, but I am wary of making promises about the future. Regardless, thank you for reading :)
> 
> \---------  
> I continue to not be a historian, and I know some of the timing might be a bit off in terms of what would have actually been happening in the huts during any given month/year. Please forgive me for an inconsistencies or errors. Also, in doing reading, I've developed my own opinions of what the women from the Bletchley Circle would have actually been doing at BP, but I've oversimplified it in this story. 
> 
> If you, like me, have fallen in love with the history of BP, here's some recommended reading:
> 
> The Secret Lives of Codebreakers by Sinclair McKay  
> The Bletchley Park Codebreakers by Michael Smith  
> The Hut Six Story by Gordon Welchman


End file.
